


13 Quotes

by Shatterpath



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-12
Updated: 2005-11-12
Packaged: 2017-10-25 20:07:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/274238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shatterpath/pseuds/Shatterpath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of moments that leads Laura and Kara to one another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	13 Quotes

**Author's Note:**

> Written on 11-12-05. Started approximately 2 or 3 pm, finished at 5:30.  
> I’ve been sitting on this list for some time, fascinated by the potential of the quotes. Today, the magic was right, and I just started writing. The genre and ‘voice’ was established by the very first quote. They run roughly in order, but only roughly. If you don’t watch the New Battlestar Galactica, my apologies for any and all confusion.  
> So, there ya go. Now, I know who the speaker here is, but I also like that it reads like it could be almost anyone. Let your imaginations run wild.  
> -Shatterpath
> 
>  
> 
> I will always believe in fairy tales. (rappelezlamour) wrote in ditesuneconte,  
> @ 2005-08-21 12:57:00
> 
>  
> 
> Challenge #10

**You are mother, sister, lover, friend, angel, devil, earth, home.**

I have no damn clue where it started. When did it change? Looking back, I can’t see the progression. How did I get to this place? I didn’t even like you that much! You overlooked me, overpowered me with the force of your personality, manipulated me with your presence and your power. But now? You are mother, sister, lover, friend, angel, devil, earth, home.

 

 **I would not have you be deathless among the deathless Gods.**

I know that you are dying, from a plague that has hounded our kind for centuries, millennium. That biological timebomb you carry in your soft flesh has made you immortal in a way. The Dying Prophet that will lead us to our ancestral homeland. But I see the woman behind the hype. I would not have you be deathless among the deathless Gods.

 

 **She forgot the stars, the moon, and sun. - 'Isabel' by Keats**

We both hail from Caprica, the crown jewel of the Twelve Colonies. Given a chance to talk, we would probably remember many of the same things about our lost world. The hot summers, humidity making everything seem slow and lazy, the crisp autumns, the cold winters, snow bringing a sense of equality to all, the glorious, bursting magic of spring. Now… now the memories are fading. Details are growing blurry, the feel and taste of sunlight and sky like a movie seen as a child, long ago. I bet she’s forgotten as much as I have, maybe even more. She forgot the stars, the moon, the sun. Each day takes just a little bit more from us.

 

 **She has a lovely face; God in his mercy lend her grace. - 'The Lady of Shalott' by Lord Tennyson**

She is a beautiful woman. Soft in the right places, angular enough for delightful contrast, elegant and cultured, with a coy twist of personality that occasionally bordered on the naughty. She has a lovely face; the Gods in their mercy lend her grace. Beside her I feel clumsy, lacking in something that she carries with innate knowledge. So I watched her closely, hoping to learn something that may put me at a level closer to her. Perhaps then, I will be noticed as more than a pawn, a useful tool, as more…

 

 **And there is nothing left remarkable beneath the visiting moon.**

I was left breathless today, as we passed through a system of gas giants, swirling vortexes of violent chemicals and colors. Dozens of moons, some jagged rock, others ice, others pale sand and one remarkable sphere that looks eerily like Caprica from space. So I stood at the viewport and stared at them for what felt like an endless time. Nothing like them had ever been in my realm of experience. Then you suddenly appear beside me, making me jump self-consciously. The weariness of your body and the deadness in your eyes stills me. A long moment passes before you silently walk away. And there is nothing left remarkable beneath the visiting moon.

 

 **I know. It doesn't make any sense. That's why I trust it.**

We have been bumping into each other an awful lot lately. Call it coincidence, but it has me thinking, has me wondering. There is something in her dark eyes, something that draws me in, even as her outward treatment does not alter at all. So I circle closer, slowly, patiently, trying to see if I can break my own patterns of behavior and take it slow enough to coax out that faint sparkle I think I see in her eye. I know. It doesn’t make any sense. That’s why I trust it.

 

 **"It's not up to you to save me." "I know... only you can do that."**

I have been hovering too close. Subtlety has been lost, not that I was very good at it in the first place. The eyes narrow, and I freeze like a mouse who thinks a predator might have spotted it. Voice low, controlled, cool, she addresses me in that even tone that makes me want to break through all those carefully constructed defenses.

“It’s not up to you to save me.”

“I know… only you can do that.”

Neither of us is entirely certain what to make of my spontaneous reply.

 

 **It's like being inside a dream or something. There's truth but no logic.**

She has been avoiding me. Bereft, I wander through my days, quiet and gray, I am no longer the person I used to be. There are no more games with the others who fight by my side, there are no more flings, no more sarcasm, no more baiting my favorite targets. Internally, I obsess and wonder, construct fantasies and scenarios like a battle plan. In running circles my mind ties itself into knots. All I want is a chance to get inside her, to be a part of her. Instead, I’ve driven her away. Then something unexpected happens.

From nowhere, she finds me, presses me to the wall, kisses me hot and fierce, her taste trapped behind my teeth. Too stunned to react, I stay passive, still frozen long after she has retreated.  
It’s like being inside a dream or something. There’s truth, but no logic.

The taste of her lingers, and the memory of her burning dark eyes.

 

 **How many times have we been here before? So close to the truth. - 'The X-Files'**

We have changed the dance.

The tempo and beat have altered, the steps are familiar, but new. We twirl close, not quite touching, moving apart, then swaying close. It’s a maddening game of confusion and anticipation, of stolen kisses and no words to explain why. Honestly, it’s making me a little nuts, and I find a way to trap her alone. Heat between our bodies, pressed close, almost coaxes honesty from her.

It’s one of many salvos between us and leaves me with many questions. How many times have we been here before? So close to the truth.

 

 **Since when is being a slut a crime in this family? - 'Practical Magic'**

I’ve taken some shit for my attraction to her. They others needle me, leaving me feeling exposed and defensive. Since when is being a slut a crime in this family? All I want is to know what she tastes like on my tongue, what she sounds like as the pleasure grows heavier in her veins, the feel of her silky flesh against mine. Sometimes the driving, physicality of my want is even more difficult to control than my tangled emotions. The need to slide my hand beneath the edge of that oh-so-proper skirt, to slide off one of those dark heels and press wet, sucking kisses to her feet. To bury my face in that intoxicating mass of dark hair.

Surely, I can’t be the only one?

 

 **Oh, sorry no, I was too busy writhing in agony to notice.**

She asked me today, how I was doing. Sarcasm burned like acid in the back of my throat, made my eyes water. Asked if I had noticed that we were drifting apart again. Oh, sorry no, I was too busy writhing in agony to notice. Even as the words remain trapped behind the lump in my throat, she sees them in my haunted gaze. Cool fingers trace my chin, my lower lip, and I tremble with the force of this thing inside me.

 

 **They can't hurt you unless you let them.**

I should have known better.

I should have listened to the advice that I’d lived by for most of my life.

They can’t hurt you unless you let them.

I am in for a world of hurt.

Her skin is soft where she lies naked and sleeping beside me. The reality of knowing her so intimately has fried my circuits, light years beyond the paltry images my brain tried so gallantly to provide when this was just desperate fantasy. Fingertips glide over her skin, no matter that I try to will them not to. Wallowing in this will only twist the knife deeper and deeper into my soul.

 

 **I go to die, you go to live. Which of us goes to the better lot is known to no one, except the god. - Socrates**

We woke together, and I basked in your sweet smile, in the gentle kisses you pressed to my mouth, my face, the tangled mass of my hair.

There was promise there, for the moments where fate allowed peace and togetherness.

It couldn’t last.

The call to war went up, and we scrambled with only a desperate, deep kiss and the look traded between our gazes. Slamming myself into flightsuit, helmet, gloves, scrambling into the cockpit of my weapon, my purpose in life, my thoughts wing with you, back to the seat of leadership that weighs so heavily on you. Perhaps there is some truth to the thought stuck in my head, perhaps there isn’t. Only time will tell.

I go to die, you go to live. Which of us goes to the better lot is known to no one, except the Gods.

I love you Laura.


End file.
